


The Rubble of Our Sins

by SilverBird13



Category: Beyond Re-Animator (2003), Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: And his regrets, Dan Cain's Sad Life, M/M, Sad Dan Character Study, UST, UST: The Fic basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dan had always thought that going to the ocean made someone think about who they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with in the same way that Christmas in Illinois did, which is precisely why he didn’t allow himself to indulge in either very often."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rubble of Our Sins

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sad Beyond Beyond R-A Dan character study that I did at 1 AM because I felt like it was necessary.

Dan had always thought that going to the ocean made someone think about who they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with in the same way that Christmas in Illinois did, which is precisely why he didn’t allow himself to indulge in either very often.

Herbert had always reminded him of the ocean, cliche as it sounded. Not because of his clean-sand skin or wild temper, but rather because Herbert was a completely unique phenomena, hiding something ancient about him under a surface that looked more or less common. Herbert held something beyond anyone’s understanding, even his own. 

Dan sniffs the air casually at the idea, took another sip of his beer. Sitting alone in a bed and breakfast at 41, hanging out the window and drinking at 2 AM. Real classy. 

Dan’s thoughts drift back to Herbert in the wake of his spark of self-hatred, as they normally do. Hatred is a good word for how he feels about himself when he thinks about Herbert, after all. Because more than the deaths, more than the goddamn murders and screams and Meg’s lifeless body, he hates that his entire being wrapped itself around Herbert like a fairytale serpent around a maiden’s throat, and that not even condemning him was enough to pry them apart. 

Dan feels the want wash over him again, biting and welcomed like the air blowing against his face. It always was an ugly sort of want, bitter with desperation. Dan doesn’t think desperation could be anything but, really. None of the noble sacrifices of his childhood saints, who must have wanted more than a beautiful eternity. No, he thinks, tears bitter against his eyelids, nobody could be that detached from life. 

The tears let Dan know that he’s passed into a place that only alcohol and sleep will fade him out of these days. He’s once again beyond that line, that unspoken, tired line that Dan had grown tired of crossing and then redoubling his steps backwards into the arms of anyone moderately attractive, repeating endlessly in some ritual he believed could wrest him from Herbert. Those snorts of disgust or glares of derision that he told himself weren't a bluff every time he went out for the night. He’d read his responses, Herbert’s actions, their shared devotion an infinite number of ways over the years he’d swept under a white coat.

The loneliness Dan has come to accept as his punishment for more sins than he can count breaks against him again, a deep tiredness that carries a bleak acceptance with it. The part of Dan that is still a squeamish third-year medical student tells him to write to Herbert. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t listen to that young man every so often at 2 AM, that he didn’t have a smattering of beginnings and endings in various notebooks around his house and his office, discarded promises and thickly-veiled confessions. 

The water is calm now, the calls of gulls silent. Dan sets his empty beer can gently down against the sill, shuts the window, and forces himself to sleep.


End file.
